


Something Soft

by Squid_Ink



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Comics accurate appearence of Matt Murdock, Established Relationship, F/M, It's okay you can imagine him.as Charlie Cox :), Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23757829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squid_Ink/pseuds/Squid_Ink
Summary: It had been one year since Wilson Fisk accepted the Devil's deal. A few months since Matt Murdock and Karen Page have officially become a couple. Yet, lurking in the shadows is someone unhappy that Karen Page still lives.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Karen Page
Comments: 16
Kudos: 28





	Something Soft

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toonanimals](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toonanimals/gifts).



The alarm Karen set never went off. Instead, she felt soft fingers ghost up her sides, hot breath fanning across her back as someone left tender fleeting kisses along her spine. The window was open, she could hear the Monday morning traffic of Hell's Kitchen clattering through the window, the soft heady breeze of spring bringing with it the scent of flowers that masked the unpleasant smells of the city. The lips found her shoulder, kissing along and up to her neck. "Good morning beautiful," Matt whispered, pressing a kiss behind her ear.

This was the best part of waking up. Rolling onto her back, she opened her eyes to a sunlight room, with a few soft shadows, dust motes dancing in the sunbeams. The wind ruffled Matt's coppery orange hair, his milky blue eyes lazily rolling around in his skull. "Morning handsome," she said, running a finger along his jaw, feeling the scruff beneath her fingertip. Smiling, she traced down his neck, over the divot in his throat and picked up the little cross he wore around his neck. The metal was brassy in color, warm against her palm and there was a weight to it. She tugged it, and he leaned forward enough so she could kiss him. "Did you turn off my alarm?"

"I heard the radio click and turned it off," he said, nuzzling his nose along hers until he reached her hairline. "Wanted to wake you up myself."

"Mm" — she kissed his throat — "you're nicer than an alarm clock." She let go of the pendant and slipped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. The security of his body covering her made her want to close her eyes again, go back to sleep. There was no rush to get up, no cases to investigate, no court dates to appear in. In fact, they had just won their first major case and deserved a little time off. Karen felt the best way was to ignore the world — even if it was shaping up to be a rather lovely spring day — and stay in bed with Matt.

Matt chuckled. "I did think about just yanking the covers off or dumping a cup of cold water on your head, but then I'd have to clean up the mess" — he shrugged — "so I thought this way was better."

"Good choice," she said as he slid down her body, kissing as he did so before resting his head between her naked breasts. They stayed like that for several minutes, listening to the ambient noises around them. She ran her fingers through Matt's hair; a few petals came through the window, caught on the breeze. The neighbors across the street were arguing again, there was a siren blaring two blocks over, jumbled voices drifting up from the alley below, and beneath everything was the steady hum of traffic.

"I love this," Matt whispered, breaking the comfortable silence. She looked down at him, hand falling to his nape.

"What?" she asked, drawing a circle against his skin with her nail; she felt him shiver at the touch.

"Your heartbeat," he said, nuzzling the side of her left breast. "It's so calm and steady. I love listening to it. Every morning, before I wake up, I lay in bed and listen to your heartbeat." He pressed a kiss to her skin. "It's soothing."

Matt had a way with words, not surprising he was a lawyer, but she liked to think that if he had kept his sight, he would have been a poet instead. "Ever thought about writing poetry? I'm pretty good at dictation."

"Karen." He chuckle. "I'm no poet." He rolled off her and onto his side, pulling the blankets up around them. "I'm just being honest," he said, before kissing her. "I love you."

"I love you too," she said, frowning when he sat up and got out of bed. She watched the light play off his pale skin, gleaming against the myriad of scars on his back. "Where you going? We don't have to be at the office."

"I know," he said, walking to the dresser and getting his clothes on. "But Foggy and I have something to do. Said I'll meet him around eight."

"Oh?" she sat up, holding the sheet over her chest, even though it was silly: Matt was blind, and it wasn't like he didn't know the contours of her chest. "Why don't I join —"

"No," Matt said, turning to face her as he buttoned up his shirt. The sharpness of his tone caught her off guard, a frown etched itself into her features. "No," he said, gentling his voice. "You can't."

"Why?"

"Because it's… it's a guy thing," he said, turning and grabbing his tie from the dresser. Karen nodded, feeling like Matt was hiding something from her. It wouldn't be the first time he hid something from her. From letting her believe his was dead, to not telling her he was Daredevil until Foggy told him to, among other things — like that nun she met once being his mother — so it really shouldn't be a surprised that he was keeping secrets from her. It hurt though, she thought they were passed this, that since they started dating — officially — a few months ago he would be honest with her. She kept her end, laying all her secrets and dark soiled deeds bare for him to judge in the harsh light of day. It would have been nice if he had reciprocated the gesture just a little bit. "— Karen."

"Yeah?" she looked up at him.

"My tie on straight? I look like I can dress myself?" he asked. She looked him up and down. Everything was neat and tidy.

"Yeah, you look ready," she said, smiling when he came over. She kissed him, cupping his face in her hands. "You just need to shave and brush your teeth. Don't think Foggy will like you with dragon breath."

"I'll shave later, I'm sure it doesn't look that bad." He straightened, holding her hands in his. There were scars on his hands, where he had split his knuckles fighting, she could feel small calcified lumps where he had broken his hand and his bones stitched back together. So much fighting, so much violence.

"Can I ask you something?" she said.

"Anything."

"In what scenario would you quit being Daredevil? For good, forever." She watched his eyes widen, and he bit his lip. "I'm not ask you to stop, Matt, I'm just wondering if you… if you ever imagined a day when the world doesn't need Daredevil."

"That's the thing Karen," he said, sitting down next to her. "The world will always need Daredevil."

"When will you not need him?" she asked. He sighed, pulling her close and kissing her temple. "Matt."

"I'll me more careful, I promise."

"That's not what I'm asking. Don't lawyer your way out of this, Matt. Answer the question: under what circumstances will you stop being Daredevil?"

"I don't know" — he stood up, back to her, his hands falling to his hips — "maybe when I get married, start a family."

The lump in her throat struggled to go down. "I see," she said. "You better get going, don't want to be late to your man date with Foggy."

"It's not a man date," he said, sounding exasperated as he picked up his cane and glasses. "We're just going shopping." He opened the door. "For a ring."

"What?" she crawled to the edge of the bed. "A ring? Why is he taking you along? You can't even see! I should come, make sure Foggy isn't getting Marci something tacky."

"Nope," he said, "you just stay here and relax. Meet me for lunch?" he asked. Karen pouted. "It's not the end of the world Karen."

"I don't see how much help you can be, Matt."

"Lunch?"

"Yes, fine, I'll see you for lunch. Noon?" — he nodded — "Okay, sounds good," she said, watching him leave their bedroom. He called out one last _I love you_ before leaving the apartment. Karen sighed, laying back against the pillows. Everything felt hot and sticky all of the sudden and the room smelled of sex despite the opened window. _When I get married, start a family_. Those where his exact words and the fact it was singular and not plural bothered her. Did Matt not see a future with her? Did he not see her being capable of being his wife or the mother of his child? She wouldn't blame him if he didn't. For a moment she considered calling Foggy and asking him what was going on, but she didn't want to betray Matt's trust like that. Still, it bothered her. Karen didn't have much time to contemplate Matt's mysterious wordage, the wind shifted and brought with it the stink of the alley below the apartment. Whatever sour rotting funk got thrown away made her gag and the urge to puke overwhelmed her. Throwing off the covers she scrambled to the bathroom just in time to throw up.

* * *

The clerk had on a coyly sweet perfume, apricots and peaches with… blackberry. All mingling together to make a noxious scent akin to fermenting fruit. She also had onions in her eggs that morning for breakfast, the mint gum she must've chewed on her way to work did nothing to hide the smell. She didn't say much, thankfully, but Foggy filled the void as he chattered on about the different rings, how Matilda — his month-old daughter — was doing and how well Marci took to motherhood. The one in his hand was slender, the metal warm against his fingertips, a raised filigree in the pattern of a vine created a vivid texture, there was a small cluster of stones — Foggy said they were diamonds — at the center of the ring. It was easy to imagine the ring on Karen's finger: the warmth of her skin contrasting with the coolness of the ring's metal. Always feeling that symbol — that promise — of his love on her finger.

There was something off about Karen that morning. He didn't know what it was, couldn't really put his finger on it. She smelled _different_ somehow. More earthy, maybe musky was the word he was thinking of. It bothered him, but as he couldn't hear anything wrong with her, he kept his mouth shut. Maybe she was getting her menses, it was a possibility; Karen did seem overly eager last night in their lovemaking and she had been irritable lately. He turned the ring over in his fingers, making a mental note to stop and pick up a box of chocolates for her. The clerk was starting to get nervous, the spike in her heartrate told him so.

"Maybe you'd like something else?" she said. "We have a lovely selection of men's engagement rings, if you rather propose to your erm… boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" he lifted his head, a little too high to look at her, until Foggy nudged him with his foot and he brought it a bit lower, still his gaze was somewhere over her shoulder. "I'm buying a ring for my girlfriend."

"Oh, well… I just thought that… you and" — she swallowed — "never mind. Is that the one you want?" she asked, pointing to the ring. The shift in the air current clued him on what she was pointing at, but still he cocked his head, playing up the helpless blind man. "The ring sir, the one you're holding. Is that the one you want?"

"Oh" — he smiled — "yes, I like this one. It's a nice one right Foggy?" Matt asked.

"Yeah, real pretty. Rose gold band with the leaves a kind of golden silver color. The little diamonds at the center look like a flower. Karen'll love it."

Matt smiled. "Yes, that's the one I want," he repeated.

"Excellent choice," the clerk said, in a matter that told him she said that about every client's selection and brushed her fingers against his and he dropped the ring into her palm. "Will that be all for you today? The ring and the necklace?"

"Yes," he said, grabbing Foggy's sleeve as they headed over to the register. The mall was crowded today, which surprised him considering how nice it was outside. Upstairs in the food court, a mother was screaming at her rambunctious child, two men were laughing at a joke, and the janitor complained about how people couldn't keep anything neat. There was a reason he hardly went to a mall: too many voices, too many smells, too many shifting currents that made his skin prickle like bugs crawling just beneath his skin. It was hard to concentrate.

"Mm?" he jerked his head up, blinking — a reflexive action to clear away the never-ending darkness that was his world.

"Do you know the size you want the ring?" the clerk asked, and then told him how much the two items would set him back. The pit of his stomach felt a bit hollow. This was starting to get too expensive. While, yes: the law office of Nelson, Murdock, and Page, had won a couple high profile cases with handsome paychecks, he was still going to have to take out a loan or a mortgage. Especially if he wanted to get that brownstone, the one Karen liked. He could imagine hearing the delight in her voice, the quickening of her pulse when he told her that that brownstone would be theirs, that they can start building their life in that house together. Still, Matt handed over his credit card to the clerk and paid for the necklace and the ring. He'll just have to ask Karen to pay the bills this month.

"Holy shit," Foggy whispered. Matt took the boxes the clerk handed him. "That's… holy shit, did you know about this?"

"Thank you,"' Matt said, trying to situate the boxes and his cane. He should've brought a bag. "Hear what?" he asked, grabbing Foggy's sleeve as they left the store. "Foggy?"

"There's been a couple of murders recently," Foggy said, steering them both through the mall. "Really weird too. All three victims have been killed with playing cards."

"Playing cards?" Matt frowned. Playing cards weren't sturdy enough to kill someone. "Impossible. Playing cards aren't sturdy enough to kill a person."

"Says here the victims were each found in their place of residence with a slash across their throat and a bloodied playing card. No fingerprints or other weapons have been found at this time. The killer remains at large." Foggy stopped. "Huh."

"What?" Matt frowned. "What is it?"

"All three victims were reported high profile syndicate members, criminal types. Due to the playing card being the killer's calling card, the press has taken to calling whomever it is the Ace Killer."

"Interesting," Matt said. It bothered him. That there was a killer out there with such accuracy that he could use a playing card to kill a person. A frown creased his features. He knew _someone_ that had that skill, but it was impossible. He was there when Fisk broke the man's back and by the way the impact sounded, Dex would never walk again. It was impossible. "What time is it?"

"Almost noon, why?" Foggy said. Matt swore. "Don't let Sister Maggie hear you swear like that."

"She's heard me say worse things," he said, handing Foggy the small box with the ring. "Put this in my desk drawer please? I have to go, I'm meeting Karen for lunch." He unbound his cane, the plastic links snapping together. "Thanks for the news update." It was easy to focus on the click-clack of the cane's point, the heartbeat of the people around him, how they shifted the air currents. When Foggy found out he was Daredevil, he had asked how he could do all that he could do. After a lengthy complicated explanation, Foggy — in his everyman's wisdom — distilled it down to that he navigated the world like an odd bat. It wasn't the best answer, but Matt found it easier to liken his hyper-senses to a bat's echolocation.

Also, people saw the white and red cane and gave him a wide berth, their eyes on him in silent judgement. As a boy it had gotten under his skin, a childish part of him wanted to shout and tell people he wasn't born blind. Stick had told him correcting people rarely dissuaded them of their biases. As an adult he learned to live with it, even use it to his advantage. People often took pity on the handicapped. Outside, he headed in the direction of the bistro he agreed to meet Karen at. It was only a few blocks from the mall and if he walked briskly, he would have enough time to get there. Pausing at the crowded corner — the man on his left stank of body order and cigarettes, a young woman wore too much perfume that smelled of flowers, a woman gasped for breath as her heart pounded in her chest from her daily run and the musky scent of her sweat lingered on the breeze. Cars honked with rumbling motors that sounded like large angry cats, the noxious tang of exhaust coiling in the back of his throat. The pulse of Hell's Kitchen vibrated the tiny hairs on his nape and the ten thousand heartbeats echoed in his ears; the city had a heart and he could feel it as sure as he could feel his own. — he rubbed the leather of the cane's handle, waiting for the soothing man's voice to announce that it was safe to walk across the street. "Crystal. Crystal. Crystal." The high electronic woman's voice sounded from his pocket.

Grumbling, he pulled his phone out and tapped at the screen a few times. "Hello?" he asked, stepping away from the curb.

"Mr. Murdock, I'm so glad I caught you," Crystal said. "I have great news on that brownstone you were interested in."

"Oh?" Matt licked his lips, a metallic toxic sweetness and the musk of the runner's scent graced his tongue, there was a hint of flowers — honey sweet — and the earthy petrichor of the coming rain. "He's willing to sell?"

"For lower than your asking price, and if you sign now, you'll lock in a sweet low mortgage rate. Honestly, this is a great opportunity Mr. Murdock."

Matt swallowed, the muscles in his throat constricting and pushing down the spit — and the taste of the city — into his gut. Going to the realtor and swinging by a store to buy a box of chocolate would make him seriously late for his lunch with Karen. The reasonable part of his brain (which sounded like Foggy), told him he should give Karen a call and inform her he was running late. "I'll be there," he said, hanging up as soon as Crystal confirmed he was coming. Slipping the phone into his pocket, he flagged down a cab.

* * *

The quaint indie playlist that the bistro used had gotten on her nerves as soon as she got off the phone with Matt. Karen glared at the image of her boyfriend in her contact list. Matt was going to be late. It surprised her that he even had the decency to call her to tell her. Normally he would just show up late. He wouldn't say _why_ he was going to be late, just that he was meeting someone and then was going to go to another store to pick up something. Honestly, what could he be doing that would cause him to be late to their lunch. It wasn't like there was anything pressing at the office either. Foggy had texted her to take the day off if she chose. So what was taking him.

The waitress flinched when Karen looked up. "Sorry," she said, giving the poor girl a warm smile. She didn't need to be subjected to her scowl, especially when she was not the intended recipient of her annoyance. Ice clinked in her glass as the waitress topped her water off.

"You ready to order or are you still waiting?" the waitress asked.

"No, I'll order," she said, opening the menu. "I'll take the spicy Thai salad with chicken and extra peanut sauce and get my boyfriend the pastrami sandwich and minestrone soup."

"Alright," the waitress said, and offered her a sympathetic smile. "He'll show up, hopefully he'll time it right and the food will be here." She clicked her pen a few times and when Karen didn't answer, she walked off to deliver the order to the kitchen. Karen glanced at her phone, scowling when she didn't get so much as a text message from Matt.

The last time they tried dating, he ended up cheating on her with Elektra. Foggy had hinted that Matt had one other relationship while they were interning at Landman and Zack's. A high profile secretary for Stark Industries named Natalie Rushman. What if this Natalie Rushman sashayed back into Matt's life and was the reason he was being held up? What if Natalie was convincing Matt to do something dangerous in the dead of night? What if it was related to some criminal activity — God, she'd hate it if the Hand came back again. Maybe Natalie convinced Matt to crawl into bed with her. The thought chilled Karen and she felt like throwing up, even though all she had in her stomach was some water and the few crackers she managed to eat for a lame breakfast. "Get a grip Karen," she whispered to herself, rubbing her temples. Matt wouldn't cheat on her. He loved her, right?

_When I get married, have a kid._

The words echoed in her head. Matt could do so much better than her. It had been a year since the whole Fisk fiasco. They had tentatively tried dating a few months after it, and only recently decided to become an "official" couple. She moved in with him, since she might as well live at the place, she was paying rent for. There was warmth and love and she felt like she finally had a home. The first home since her mother died. A wonderful feeling that swelled in her chest and warmed her to her fingers and toes. Matt was home: his arms around her, his scent of old leather and sweat and a bit of sandalwood. The way he touched her and whispered sweet nothings into her ear, how he nuzzled her hair as if all he needed to live was the scent of her alone. It was home, it was him, and the fear of losing that made her queasy.

Or it was just the queasiness in her stomach from the last several weeks acting up again. In fact, she was late — again. Last month her period had been light, a few spots and then nothing. Now, she hadn't had so much as a cramp. No, she just felt like she should be coughing up her stomach all day. Everything from coffee to Foggy's tuna sandwich would make her gag. It was getting annoying and she thought about going to a doctor but winced at the idea of paying through the nose to just have the doctor tell her she was fine. So, suffering in silence was the solution. A tiny bell at the door tingled and she looked up. At the hostess podium was a man in a suit, the shadows too thick for her to make out who he was. The hostess pointed in her general direction and then came around and lead the man to her. She smiled when Matt came into view.

"Sorry, I'm late," he said, sitting down as he folded his cane up to tuck it against his leg. "Got you chocolate," he said, holding up a gold and brown box with _Godiva_ stamped on it and an Amazon astride a pegasus beneath it. "Since you've been uh… touchy of late."

She arched a brow, accepting the gift in the manner of a disgruntled cat accepted milk. "Nice save," she said, "what took you so long?" Did you meet up with Natalie? The question poked at her tongue, and she felt the back of her teeth. Matt took a sip of water and then adjusted his glasses, the red lenses glinting.

"I uh… it's a surprise," he said, a fleeting smile on his face. She frowned. "Don't worry, it's a good surprise. I was thinking we can have dinner Friday, and then I'll show you it." He reached across the table and took her hand. "You'll love it Karen." He brushed his thumb over her knuckles.

It felt awkward. He didn't think she was marrying material, let alone the mother type. Now he was being secretive with this surprise and meeting up with whomever — Natalie or Elektra — and she felt like she was that girl he came back to because she was reliable. Because he knew that no matter what bullshit he pulled, she would always welcome him back into her heart and bed. The thought made her feel dirty. She rubbed her palms against her thighs. "Maybe… we should hold off on the dinner," she said.

"What?" Matt frowned. The waitress came back with their food. "Oh, you ordered for me," he said.

"I hope you don't mind," she said, twisting the napkin around. "You hadn't shown up and I was hungry." Though as soon as she said that, her stomach protested the idea of eating. Instead, she angrily poked at her salad, delighted to hear the spines of the lettuce leaves crunch with each stab. "I think maybe… we should take a break."

"A break?" Matt asked, dragging his spoon through his soup. "A break from…"

"Us." The idea was out in the open now and it was like going down hill in a car. A steady game of tap and release on the breaks was needed and she hoped that she didn't leave her foot off the metaphorical breaks for too long for the entire thing to spiral out of control. It took a considerable amount of willpower to not think of the night Kevin died, of the car flipping and the world going topsy-turvy, the crunch of glass and metal and the sickening coppery scent of blood. Karen forced herself to eat.

"You want to move out?" Matt asked, there was a tremble in his voice, his shoulders bunching up around his ears. "But you sold your place and…"

"N-No," she said, back peddling. She took a sip of water, trying to organize her thoughts. "I think, we should just… let things be… as… as they are between us." She offered a smile that he couldn't see. "We're in a good spot right now and… what I mean by a break, I think we're maybe rushing into things too fast. Let's so down a little and just get used to living with each other for the time being."

"Okay," he said, the word ghosting upon his breath. "I'll quit."

"What?" She arched a brow. "Quit what?" It was rhetorical, she knew what he meant. It was another sore spot in their relationship. Not that she wanted him to stop letting the devil out a night, but rather the baggage that it came with. The ever-looming threat that someone or something worse than Fisk or the Hand could rear its ugly head and Matt would go leaping off into the night to deal with it.

It was their first night living together and she stayed up, watching the city lights and waiting for him, wondering what he was doing, if he was hurt or if he was saving people. When he came home, she tended to his wounds and took his face in her hands and told him to never stop being Daredevil.

Matt swallowed. "You know."

"And I told you not to," she said. "I don't want you feel like… like I'm holding it hostage or that you have to give it up to appease me, Matt. You are who you are. That and the lawyer. I love both. I told you this morning I didn't want you to stop, but you also can't be like sixty-five beating up muggers."

"You're no fun," he said, a teasing smile on his face. She shook head. "I understand Karen, and I… I guess, we can just stay in on Friday and order pizza or something."

"I like that idea." Her stomach didn't though. It rolled, flipflopping in her gut and the urge to gag overwhelmed her. Groaning, she stood up, her head spinning like a child's top. The world tilted sideways, the edges of her vision going black. Matt scrambling to catch her, the panic in his voice as he called her name and then the world went black.

* * *

Matt hated hospitals. The scents, the sounds, the itchy sheets. All the poking and the prodding. It reminded him of his accident as a child. The doctors whispering too loudly to his father. The chemicals damaged his eyes, he'll never regain his sight. The insurance men saying that the company cannot be held liable for the accident otherwise his father's meager insurgency policy wouldn't pay for the hefty medical bills. His father and a woman angrily hissing at each other, and a gold cross beneath his fingers accompanied with an angel soft kiss to his brow.

Now, he sat in the uncomfortable chair, holding Karen's hand. There was a bandage on her head, a tang of blood. Claire wanted to keep Karen over night for observation, worried that she may have a concussion. Karen said she was fine. In the end, Matt convinced her to stay the night, just to make sure. When Claire asked Karen if there was anything else, she wanted her to make note of, he heard Karen's heart skip a beat before she softly said no. Claire accepted it and walked off. "I'm fine, Matt," Karen said. "Just passed out and hit my head."

"But why did you pass out?" he asked, and he heard the hospital gown rustle as she shrugged.

"I don't know, but I'm sure it's nothing. I'll be discharged in the morning. Go home," she said. The idea of returning to his apartment without her, with everything smelling of her, was an unappealing idea. It wasn't home without her. "Get some sleep."

"It's not home without you," he whispered. Hearing her skull crack against the floor had sent chills down his spine. Fisk's threat of hurting her lingering in the back of his mind. Once Karen was asleep, he was going to make sure Vanessa was hale and hearty. The idea of losing Karen made him sick to his stomach.

"Matt," Karen sighed, though he heard the empathy in her tone. She understood it all too well. The apartment wasn't home without the other. "Promise me you'll ask Claire if you can catch a nap in the employee sleeping room or something?" she asked, reaching out and running her fingers through his hair.

"I will," he said, as he leaned into her touch. It soothed him, helped him block out the sounds of death and sickness. He frowned when his phone started to buzz in his pocket and then the woman's voice announcing a call from an unknown number. Grunting, he fished it out and stood up, heading to the window so he didn't lose th call. "Hello?" he asked, a cold shiver running down his spine as he heard the heavy breathing on the other end.

"Hi, Matt," the graveling voice said. "Been a long time. Not since Fisk's wedding, eh?"

That voice. He never forgot a voice. Especially a voice like this one. A voice cold as ice and accurate as a dagger into the heart. He gripped his phone, remembering the old meditation techniques Stick tried to teach him to steady his nerves. "What do you want?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing" — the word rolled heavy off his tongue, foreboding dripping from every drawn-out syllable, oil slick and dreadful black — "just wanted to check in and see how you're doing. Looks like Karen got banged up today."

His spine stiffen and he tried to listen, tried to pinpoint his heartbeat. The steady unwavering pulse of a man with no soul. The heartbeat of a sadistic sociopath should have been easy to hear in a hospital full of altruistic people. Yet, he couldn't locate it. Matt moved away from the window. "I won't let you kill her."

"We'll see." There was a smirk in his voice. "You know, I never miss. And it _bothers_ me that I missed her."

"I'll find you," he hissed, fingers clawing at the wall. "I'll find you."

"A game of cat and mouse" — a pause — "only the mouse is blind." There was a click and Matt pulled his phone away. The heartbeats echoed in his ears, trying to find that cold steady tattoo of a sociopath's heart. It was futile. The devil bubbled up in his chest, clawing to be let out. Anger twisted in his muscles.

"Matt?" Karen asked, and he turned his head towards her. "Who was that?" The curious innocence of her tone made him swallow. He couldn't scare her. There was an off chance that it wasn't _him_ , but with murders Foggy told him about this morning and now this phone call, the possibility was slim.

"Foggy, he wants me to come over and take a look at something," he said, smiling as he slipped his phone into his pocket. He walked over to Karen and gave her a kiss on her brow, making a mental note to call Jessica or Luke and ask if one of them could pop in and check on Karen. "I'll be here to pick you up tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, don't work too hard and tell Foggy he needs to sleep," she added, a soft chuckle punctuating the end of her sentence. He smiled and kissed her again. "Night," she added.

"Night," he said. "I'll see you in the morning." He kissed her once more and then left. Tonight, he was going to let the devil out. They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorn. Well, whomever they are was going to find out that in hell you never crossed the devil himself.

**Author's Note:**

> MCU and Daredevil (c) Marvel Studios
> 
> Save an author; leave a review


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